Giving of Thanks

I'm the first one awake in my house.  I've got a cup of tea next to me, warm sheepskin boots on my feet, the fire is crackling away in the fireplace and Nat King Cole is softly crooning The Christmas Song thanks to a little Holiday Pandora.

It's Thanksgiving today, lovers.   I've woken up early because the responsibility of our yearly tradition of Sticky Buns on Thanksgiving Morning was given to me this year, or rather, I took the responsibility upon myself.  I wanted to make sure they got made this year.  You see, we're being all sorts of untraditional this year and instead of having the normal 20-30 people at our house for the world's best homemade Thanksgiving dinner, we're not cooking anything.  Except for the Sticky Buns.  We're going out to dinner tonight, to a beautiful restaurant by the Columbia River called Salty's.  Bottomless champagne, an all-you-can-eat Thanksgiving Buffet, and world class views of one of this country's most stunning rivers.  I'm desperately looking forward to the buckets of iced crab legs that will be floating around like jars of savory, spidery fairy dust. I won't even mention the crab and lobster mac-and-cheese on the menu, or the three different types of stuffing for the cider-roasted turkey.  I'm excited for something a little different, this year, if you can't tell, and the diehard foodie in my is, well, dying to be the patron of a blissful food-induced coma after dinner.

That's not what this post was supposed to be about, though.  As I sit here waiting for the sticky buns to come to room temperature so I can put them in the oven and fill the house with warm, cinnamony, buttery smells, I've been thinking a lot about gratitude, and why it is that we set aside one day every year to be thankful for the blessings we've been given.

I've been severely blessed by many wonderful and beautiful things and people in my life, and something about Frank Sinatra singing Christmas songs just makes you all sorts of weepy and emotional, so here I go.

Here's my grown-up (but not too grown-up) Thanksgiving list:

• I'm thankful for the wonderful and comforting God-fearing family that our Father has placed me in.  We've been through so much together, and every year brings new trials and tribulations for us all.  Yet He is faithful to us, and He heals and guides and loves us, and brings us closer in new ways every day.  Something that sometimes, feels absolutely impossible.
  
• I'm thankful for the faithful and loving friends that light up my life.  Friends that do their absolute best to understand me and love me even when they don't succeed in understanding my trivialities, and also when I don't deserve to be loved.
  
  
• I'm thankful for the beautiful home that I've lived in for the past five years, and all the beautiful homes I  lived in before this one.  Thankful for electricity and running water and gas stoves, and also the usage of my beautiful and striking Vitamix juicer.
  
  
• I'm thankful for the passions that God has given me.  I'm thankful for the world of literature, and art, and great feeling.  I'm thankful for writing, without which I would be obtuse and deficient.  I'm thankful for music, and the way it can change the world.  I'm thankful for cooking, and the comfort it brings.
  
  
• I'm thankful for my possessions.  I'm thankful for my astounding and cherished collection of books.  My three beautiful guitars.  My frustrating, yet worthy laptop.  My inspiring typewriter.  My picture frames filled with incandescent memories.  My framed posters of Audrey Hepburn and the Beatles... and that one framed black and white movie photograph of Michael Corleone that my father sinfully covets everytime he comes into my room. :)
  
  
• I'm thankful for my Cerebral Cortex, and the association it has with keeping and storing memories.  I'm thankful for having a healthy Cerebral Cortex, and I'm thankful for every one of those irreplaceable memories.
  
  
• I'm thankful for the dreams I've been blessed with.  I'm thankful for who they shape me to be, and the determination they foster with love and nurture with care.
  
  
• I'm thankful for this beautiful and hopeful world I live in.  I'm thankful for the faith I have in the good of humanity, and I'm thankful for the united strive towards Peace that people share.
  
  
• I'm thankful for Oregon and the freedom to be strange and unusual and individual, and also be accepted for all of those things.
  
  
• I'm thankful for Disney films, and lastly, I'm thankful for Bon Jovi.   

And no, that is not all that I am thankful for, but I'm pretty sure that sums up most of my life fairly well.

My greatest wishes and blessings to you and yours this wonderful Holiday, and the rest of this beloved Holiday season.


Wishing you all the stuffing, sweet potatoes and floating crab legs in the world,

Xx,

Hannah

Dreams

I told Raelyn on Saturday that I wanted to start listening to more Fleetwood Mac because I sort of felt as though I could gain all sorts of valuable insight and writing inspiration from their music.

So now I'm listening to Rumours on repeat, because I figured it was a good place to start, being one of the best-selling albums ever made and all.

The music is incredible, and I'm remembering just how many great songs came from this band;  I've listened to Songbird three times in a row just now.  I am finding the inspiration I hoped for, but not the inspiration I started out looking for.  This inspiration is more or less just for living life the way it should be lived: with great feeling.

There are some things in life that we all take for granted sometimes, and I think our feelings are one of them.  I don't want to live like that anymore.  Numbness is not an option; let the waters come.

There are only so many moments that we have to experience being overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed with love, exhaustion, excitement, sadness, fear, joy, hurt.  Each moment of siege is unparalleled.  Why shouldn't we celebrate that?

To think, they all lived their great feeling so much that all of their hurt and heartache and love was channeled into writing eleven of the most popular songs of all time.  And now their great feeling has had the opportunity to inspire,  and now we've come full circle.

About an hour ago, I read something that made me incandescently happy, and even if it was an unusual way to be moved, I refuse to feel anything but happiness about it.

Passion is not for the faint of heart.

I have chosen to live my life with great feeling, with passion, and therefore, hiding and smothering are not of my nature.

So I listen to Rumours, and I smile, knowing that passion is a gift given to make this world a beautiful, art-filled place.

Would you look at that?  Yet another something to celebrate...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02ZKmCQl3vw&list=PL6A8B0765C13A0878&feature=mh_lolz

Xx,
Hannah

Holden Caulfield

Dear Holden,

I never thought that I could be physically angry at someone for not existing, but I want you to know I am personally holding you responsible for not being real, and am acting out in upset and volatile manners because of it.

I'm very weak, Holden.  Did you know that?

I'm guessing you didn't, but that's why I'm telling you now to make up for it.

I'm so weak that I've discovered I'm one of those people who feel they need to be loved in order to be happy.  I swear to God I mean it.  It disgusts me too.  But the problem is, I mean it.  I know it's crazy.

Did you know that you're also weak, Holden?  And I'd even go so far to say that you're weak in the same area as me.  But there's no way you'd ever admit it, is there?

I'm so weak, Holden, that I'm filing a complaint to a fictional character about how irksome and inconvenient it is to me that they are not a real human being.

You know, if you were real, I'd be so head over heels in love with you.  I really honestly already am.  Very big deal.

It kills me to realize all of this.  I mean, what a disappointment I am.  What a slob.  If anything, I'm the pond scum that lives on the bottom of the slob's shoe, if you know what I mean.

Do you know what I mean?

The problem with being in love with you, Holden, or one of the problems anyway, is that I have to rationalize with myself over and over again that it's impossible for you to love me back.  Which is really quite the downer, because I honestly think we'd be good together, if I may speak candidly.

In some sick, strange way I understand you and all your disaffected sarcasm and blatantly hurtful honesty.  Your delivery is weak, and less-than-compelling, but I do believe your intentions are good.  Underneath all of that depression and hopelessness, you're really very bright and full of faith.  You want to believe in humanity, don't you?  I know, because I do too.

Something about you makes me pick up Catcher over and over and over again without tiring or growing bored of the same old story. That's got to mean something, am I right?

But let's get back to the honesty bit.  If we were together, I wouldn't try to change you.  I wouldn't have to.  I don't think we'd be together forever, neither of us is the type to be built to last with someone too similar to us, but I think we could stick it out for a good, long while.  And we'd be happy.  Sort of.  Maybe not so much happy as much as we'd be okay.  I wouldn't be lonely, and you wouldn't be depressed anymore.

And you could say the sort of crap to me that you say to everybody else, and I swear I wouldn't get all offended by it.  I wouldn't hit the ceiling like good old Sally Hayes did when you called her a royal pain your ass.  Honest, I wouldn't.   I'd probably call you a pain in my ass just to dish it right back at you.  If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a girl who takes crap like that and doesn't dish it right back out.  I mean, what else were we given mouths for, you know?

But all of this is a very big deal for no reason at all, because you're only some fictional character.  And even though I'm in love with you, kid, the love's not real either.

And that's showbiz.

So you'll stay immortalized on paper, always close to my heart, and on my nightstand, and I'll just have to accept that.

Thanks for all the inspiration, golden Holden.

You're a real dream.

With lasting affection,

Hannah

It Is What It Is

Lovers,

It's been over a week since my last post, and I've missed you.  I've noticed by looking over my archives that my updates lately have been rather droll, rather deathly and less poignant than I'd like them to be.

I'm not that dark of a person, I do swear.

And so, this post promises to be more lighthearted, as my mood today reflects wonderment. That's actually what I prayed for this morning, for God to make my face and my heart reflect His mercy and peace and love.

We'll see how it goes.  I have a willing mind, but my heart and sinful nature are stubborn, unrelenting.  Determined to be unmoved and sinister.  Still, they're fighting a loosing battle when it comes to God, aren't they?

Life is moving on lately at a whirlwind sort of pace.  The days are flying by until my departure for the coast; less than two months remain. I've been getting all sorts of updates from Ecola in the mail, reminding me to fill out background check forms, and to buy a new Study Bible, to remember candles are not allowed in the dorm rooms (NO CANDLES? WHAT?!?!) to advise me to bring flashlights for power outages, to accept a flashy Ecola t-shirt, their gift to me free of charge.

It's all very surreal to me, logically sound and acceptable, but otherwise totally and completely outlandish and foreign.  I like it.

Unfortunately, I have a lot more time on my hands than normal right now as my hours were cut at work a few weeks ago, due to extreme and damaging construction on all 4 sides of the restaurant. North, South, East and West.  Customers just aren't fighting the gloom and doom warning signs to come for a bite of pizza and lovely hour of conversation.  I used to work Wed-Sat and now I'm only scheduled for Fridays and Saturdays. This week I'm only working Friday, because I had to take Saturday off for a wedding.

I never thought I would miss it this much, but I guess it's really more fortunate than un, because now I have the time to get my life together before leaving, comprende?

For instance, my mom and I made a list the other day.

Hannah's To-Do Before Ecola:

• Get eyes checked
• Get teeth cleaned (You know, because things like these are vitally important in my family.)
• Organize closet and set aside clothes
• Trip to IKEA for dorm junk like sheets and an alarm clock
• Apply to the conference center
• Apply to PSU
• Switch banks, and get a real debit card
• Replace battery in my laptop.  (Sigh.) 
• Reread driver's manual 
• Get License
• Get Car  (which I had, until the Turkish gentleman we had bought it from kindly decided he wanted it back to sell to his wife's coworker who, apparently, threw a hissyfit upon learning they had sold the car to somebody else.  I refrain from using the choice words here that I used the other day to vent my frustration.) 
• Finish Gospel Reconciliation (Which is a book that I promised my dad I would finish before I left for Ecola, that I am now sincerely regretting because time is tick-tick-ticking away and I've barely even scratched the surface, and it's not a very thrilling on-the-edge-of-your-seat sort of read.  Everytime I crack it open, I end up napping.) 
• Maintain friendships in this time of extreme "Do-Or-DIE" 
• Oh, and also go to Florida for a week to watch my sister give birth, be the first one to see the baby, celebrate four family birthdays and sing lots of Christmas Carols and tra-la-la-the-Holiday-Roast! (This I am looking forward to the most.) 
• Schedule time for Becca to come down over Christmas break.  (Yes, Becca, that is literally on our list.) 

Have I stressed you out yet?

Oh, well.  The only thing I can really say about the whole thing is "It is what it is."  Which has become my new philosophy over the past month.  

My parents and I spent three and a half hours last night watching all of Godfather, part II and I got some good wisdom from that, so I don't feel as stressed today as I did yesterday.  Easily calmed, much?

That's all for now, lovers. I simply must get on with my day.

I hope this finds you all well!

Wishing you all the clarity, love, peace and chocolate chips this earth can allow,

Xx,

Hannah

The Art of Choosing Bogarts

Well, Halloween is over.  As of five minutes ago, it's now officially All Saint's Day.

I wish I knew a saint to tell you about, but unfortunately, I have no saint-age in my religious background.  Except for the obvious ones like Saint Mary.  And Paul.  Does Jesus count?

I just finished watching Graveyard Shift and have developed an entirely new fear of rats.  Well, okay, that's not true.  It was a fear I already had, due to that one awful scene in 2 Fast 2 Furious with the rat and the bucket and the torch, but it kind of intensified just now.  A lot.

The rats weren't the scariest part, though.  And neither was the gross bat-pig-rat-like creature of the deep that fed on unknowing and injured cotton mill workers (although, I must admit, creatures from the deep are never scary, in my opinion). The scariest part of the movie was watching everyone go crazy with fear.

I realized that the power of fear is more terrifying than anything else.

Everytime I watch a Stephen King movie, I go through this thing where I sit for awhile and ponder just how I plan on going crazy in my old age, whether it's from the power of fear, or not.  Like after I watched The Shining for the first time.  I had to completely rethink my life and the likelihood of a normal, healthy aging process.

There's so many types of crazy, you know?  Don't you ever wonder what mental illness you're prone to?

I do.  All the time.

I mean, honestly.  I could go bi-polar.  I could start seeing things.  I could hear voices.  I could develop a complex.  I could start murdering people in cold blood.  I could start hoarding, or develop OCD.

I could do all of those things, realistically, but I think the only valid and probable mental incongruency I would develop would be multiple personality disorder.

In fact, I know I would.

All writers have some form of multiple personality disorder, in my opinion.  It goes unnoticed, however, because we're actively expressing the disorder through the development of characters and plotlines.  It's not locked inside our minds.  Our illness is alive in our words.

And I'm okay with the idea of developing multiple personalities.

I'd rather do that, than start hearing voices.  Or seeing things. Or feeling bugs crawling underneath my skin nonstop.  At least with MPD you aren't conscious of what's going on when the "alters" are in control.  You can't hear them whispering things in your ear.  You just become them for awhile.

Things like these fascinate me.  I'm alternately terrified and enthralled by the world of the psychologically insane.

So are a few of my friends, which is absolutely wonderful, because then we get to have the most stimulating and controversial discussions ever.  Like last week, we discussed the sanity of serial killers and whether or not they're inexplicably cruel animals or intellectually unsurpassed geniuses.

All this to say: I'm too keyed up to sleep.  But not because I'm terrified to move from this spot on the couch, just because I'm all thoughtful and contemplative now.

Although, because it was Halloween, there's a lot of updates about Paranormal Activity 3 in my various minifeeds, and I'm trying not to remember the time I decided it would be a good idea to watch the first one all by myself late at night.

Because let's be honest, here, folks:  I still have nightmares about that movie.  Give me ghost stories, vampires, campy werewolf monster horror, zombies, psycho thrillers, aliens, even killer clowns, and I'll be fine.  But when you throw demons, exorcisms, hauntings and paranormal entities into the mix:  I am the biggest basket case on the planet.  Nothing terrifies me more.  Well, I also deeply dislike cannibalism.  But that's more irrational than anything else.

So, don't ask me why I watched it in the first place, because I really can't tell you why.

And now that I've started thinking about it, I am a little bit terrified to go to bed.

I need a man, you know?

But let's not go down that road, either.  That might be the most terrifying road of all.

Regardless of what I'm afraid of,  it's been a fine Halloween this year, and even though it doesn't really bother me, I am still glad it's over.  The Holiday Season can officially begin. 54 sleeps 'til Christmas!

Yeow.

Sweet dreams, lovers.

XOXO and Chocolate Chips to boot,

Hannah